


The thrift shop recurrence

by DauntlessSubconscious



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo looks at inanimate objects for way too long, F/M, POV Rey (Star Wars), Prompt Fic, Rey can't help to stare, this is mostly fluff, wickedlywonderfulweekofreylo, with a bit of weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessSubconscious/pseuds/DauntlessSubconscious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at the thrift shop is a necessary evil for Rey, so she can't exactly feel bad for distracting herself with the oddities of one particular customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The thrift shop recurrence

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> So, this is my first part of the Wickedly Wonderful Week of Reylo challenge, in which we have a simple prompt to fill each day. Monday's prompt is "Snowshoes".
> 
> A huge thanks to rachel_greatest for betaing this and for her usual awesomeness!
> 
> This is probably the most non-sensical thing I've ever written, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I hope you enjoy it too :)

For what seems like the millionth time today, she sighs. Also, Rey swears that if she has to hear another person making the joke of only having twenty dollars in their pocket, she will—in the following order—scream loudly, close the shop with all the customers inside, and divorce herself from the entire human race by finding a secluded place and proceeding to live there.

 

Of course, she sighs—because all of that is wishful thinking. In reality, she needs this job, desperately so if she intends to keep a roof over her head and food on her plate; plus, it fits perfectly to her college class schedule and it’s usually quiet enough for her to catch up with her reading.

 

There are days like today, though, when the whole of society appears to remember thrift shops exist and the recognition fills them with a strong urge to visit one, days in which everyone—falsely—thinks they are prime comedians and she’s stuck with wearing a saccharine smile while trying not to roll her eyes. There’s real fear in her when she thinks of the pain her mandible will suffer due to that.

 

She still has a bit over an hour before closing, but thankfully, there’s not many people left.

 

There’s a group of teenagers obnoxiously laughing about the feather boas and she knows they won’t buy a thing, but Rey can’t exactly blame them nor does she have the heart to chastise them since they aren’t making any mess. Aida—eighty-six and counting, also one of the few regulars the store has—is shuffling through the heavy winter coats with special interest. The old lady is always nice with her and, if anything, a bit preoccupied with Rey’s lack of engagement ring. _When I was your age, I was already married and had two kids_. Rey would be lying if she said the white picket fence isn’t alluring, but she wants other things too, like finishing her Engineering degree and actually making that trip she and Finn have been planning since they were barely more than forgotten fifteen year olds.

 

And then, there’s him. Tall-dark-and-handsome is the nickname Rey has for him, the guy that has been passing through the thrift shop at least once a week over the last month; and by the way he’s eyeing those snowshoes, she’s thinking she might as well add “weirdo” to that list of _assets._

 

His routine is invariable. He enters and heads straight to the rack where the snowshoes are—along with other miscellaneous items—and stares at them. No, correction, he _studies_ them. Sometimes he carries a book or a picture, sometimes he brings a small notebook that looks suspiciously like a journal and scribbles in the thing. Rey even thinks that she saw him draw the object of his adoration once, but she can’t be sure. Yeah, she’s been staring, it’s not a crime. She’s also been meaning to ask, but something keeps stopping her. Shyness? Maybe. General preservation instincts? Most likely, because Rey can’t decide if Tall-dark-and-handsome’s aura speaks of mystery or danger.

 

Rey’s forced to look away from him when Aida approaches the register, her chosen coat in hand. She smiles and nods to the old woman, but her attention remains anchored in the misc section of the store, and is he wearing reading glasses? She’s never seen him with those on—

 

“Sweetie, what do you think?”

 

 _Oh, shit_. Rey’s eyes focus on the woman in front of her, who’s obviously waiting for her opinion, the question is about what. Knowing she probably looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Rey tries to see if any bit of Aida’s monologue stuck inside her not-so-multitasker mind; even a small sliver of context would be welcomed, but she’s got nothing.

 

Smiling politely, Rey takes a huge chance and dives, head on. “Oh, yes… I agree with you.”

 

Rey releases a breath as Aida’s face turns into a pleased expression; she doesn’t want to push her luck, though, that’s why she keeps her eyes trained in the process of putting the coat in the bag and counting the money. When Aida finally leaves, the group of teens is still giggling—now due to some vintage purses—but there’s no sign of Tall-dark-and-handsome and Rey doesn’t really know why she is frowning nor where the slight feeling of disappointment comes from.

 

A week passes, then another one and another one, and as October gives way to November, Rey starts to wonder why hasn’t he showed up. Her curiosity is maybe only outmatched by her imagination, but if truth must be spoken, college isn’t leaving her much time to worry about anything else. Midterms are a blink of an eye away and Maz’s green light for closing early on an evening when the store is deserted is like finding an oasis after days of walking through the desert.

 

She’s two hours shy of her closing time, but after a day that overdid quiet and moved on to boring, she doesn’t even hesitate to shut the doors after half an hour of zero clients. She clicks the lights off, puts her coat on and makes sure her hand made scarf is covering every spot of her neck—the last thing she needs right now is to catch a cold. She squirms a bit due to the feel of the wool; maybe she should suggest to Finn that itchiness is an important factor to remember the next time he knits something for her.

 

She locks the door and pushes it once or twice, checking to make sure it’s actually closed when she hears a loud yelp behind her, the distinct squeal of rubber against asphalt as a car breaks abruptly, and the average new yorker’s typical insults. Rey turns and she’ll be damned if that isn’t Tall-dark-and-handsome bickering with an infuriated taxi driver; her eyebrows shoot up when her mysterious customer hits the car’s hood with closed fists while the driver returns the gesture with a middle finger.

 

Before Rey gets any chance to react he’s already on the sidewalk and his long strides place him by her side in no time. Only then, Rey notices his height, the length of his legs; and perhaps she should be intimidated by him despite her curiosity. The latter ends up winning, and she shamelessly stares at the details she wasn’t able to appreciate from behind the counter.

 

His head nods at the shop in front of them, his arms crossing over his chest and she stands corrected, this guy isn’t lanky at all like she’d initially thought.

 

“Isn’t it early for closing?”

 

Of course, he had to open his mouth and blow it.

 

Her face hardens to his tone of voice, because honestly, she could live just fine without the condescension from a total stranger.

 

She struggles with what to say for a moment, the rational, trained-in-sales part of her mind suggests treating him like any other customer, with politeness and fake smiles. However, there’s something about this guy, maybe it’s the situation itself or the stress of preparing herself for her upcoming exams…She ultimately decides that his arrogance is what challenges her to speak up and Rey isn’t known for backing out from a dare.

 

“None of your business,” she says, unconsciously straightening her posture and after another sharp look, she turns and starts walking away.

 

Rey only manages to take five, perhaps six steps before hearing a scoff and the echo of his boots over the sidewalk.

 

“Hey, wait up!”

 

Again, she can’t exactly place what makes her stop, since the last thing she’s aiming for is pleasing this guy, but she stills all the same.

 

“I need you to open the store for me,” and it’s spoken as a demand, not a request.

 

She doesn’t bother with an answer, choosing to roll her eyes and resume her walk towards the avenue.

 

“Wait,” and the tone of his voice is milder now. He places his large body before hers and this time, she stops just to keep from bumping against him. He puts his hands up in surrender. “Look, I just need five minutes, that’s it.”

 

“What for? So you can stare those snowshoes some more?”

 

She was going for mocking, but as soon as the last word leaves her mouth, she realizes all she’s done is put herself in evidence. The fact he’s trying to hide the smile contouring his lips is enough confirmation.

 

“Please?”

 

It’s his eyes, she decides later, when they are sharing a coffee a couple of blocks away from the thrift shop. She had been ready to ignore the man, but how could she when those honey colored eyes pinned hers and derailed  her train of thought.

 

“...at this point, I’m almost sure they belonged to him, my grandfather.”

 

“So, let me get this straight, the Anakin Skywalker, famous explorer and historian, was your grandfather and those snowshoes were his?”

 

He grins and nods. “He used to write his initials and the year of the expedition on his items, so that’s a match.”

 

Rey looks at a picture he’d taken with his phone not ten minutes ago, and yes, there they were: _A.S. - 1951_. She shakes her head in amazement, her teeth lightly biting her lip. This seems absolutely crazy, but her craving for more knowledge dims any disbelief in her.

 

“Where did he go back in ‘51?”

 

“The Himalayas,” he says and he leans in, resting his elbows over the table. Almost without realizing it, she imitates him. “He was convinced he could find the lost city of Shambhala and its treasure: the Cintamani Stone.”

 

“Now you’re just messing with me…”

 

He rolls his eyes and takes a journal that has seen better days from his satchel. “I’m not! He started by following the trail of Marco Polo’s last journey…”

 

Yes, the mischievous glint in his eyes is the thing to blame here. She’s not getting any studying done tonight, but as Ben points to a map in the journal and grins again, she finds that’s a fact she’s completely okay with.

**Author's Note:**

> The mentions of the lost city of Shambhala, the Cintamani stone and Marco Polo's journeys are all taken from [Uncharted 2: Among Thieves](http://www.naughtydog.com/games/uncharted2_among_thieves/), an incredibly good adventure PS3 game.


End file.
